


His Exception

by CourtingInsanity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dramione Remix Fest, F/M, He's Just Not That Into You, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Playboy Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 19:58:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15870702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourtingInsanity/pseuds/CourtingInsanity
Summary: Based on the move “He’s Just Not That Into You”, specifically the story of Alex and Gigi. Draco is the playboy owner of a bar in Wizarding London, happy with his lack of romantic commitment. Hermione is looking for love but has a terrible track record. When they reunite after Hermione’s failed date with Theo Nott, Draco takes it upon himself to teach the brunette witch the ways of the dating game, so she can save herself further heartache…well, at least until she gets it into her head that they should be a couple, and then both of their hearts are placed in the firing line.





	1. If He's Not Calling You...

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the movie "He's Just Not That Into You." Blurb of the film: Gigi is a hopeless romantic who is currently trying to navigate the minefield that is the dating game. After a date with a real estate agent named Conor, she goes to a bar he frequents in the hope of 'accidentally' running into him. Instead, she meets the owner and Conor's friend, Alex, who tells Gigi that Conor won't be coming in tonight, and that if a guy is really interested in her, he'll call. They forge a friendship based on Alex giving Gigi dating advice, until eventually she is at home alone on a Friday night because "he won't let her date anyone who doesn't like her." At a party Alex is throwing, Gigi decides to make her move on him, interpreting the 'signs' as evidence that Alex actually wants to date her. He rejects her, but then realises he has made a mistake, and so heads over to her place for a wonderful Happily Ever After. 
> 
> Thanks to the wonderful people over at Dramione Remix for this awesome fest. Massive hugs to my alpha/beta ravenclaw-sass! This fic would not exist without her awesome eye and wonderful support.

The restaurant was located in downtown Muggle London - definitely not his expected choice for a first date, or so she would have thought. Though if she was being honest with herself, she could not imagine a place a former pureblood supremacist would choose to take a Muggle-born on a blind date.

 

_ Is it a blind date, though?  _ Hermione asked herself as she looked both ways down the grey street before crossing.  _ If you’ve already met the person, and spent six years of your life living in the same castle, was it technically…? _

 

“Granger?” A familiar, yet slightly unplaceable voice sounded from behind her and Hermione skidded to a halt, heels catching in the uneven pavement. 

 

“Theodore!” A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she turned to face the wizard she would be dining with. 

 

“Just Theo,” he said. “Lovely to see you...again,” he added as an afterthought, a playful smile on his lips. 

 

_ He looks bloody good, _ Hermione thought to herself.  _ Exactly my type - well done Lavender. _

 

His hair was light brown and wavy, his physique obviously toned beneath his grey pin-striped suit, but not too muscly. His light blue eyes danced in the dull glow of the street light, and Hermione felt her dormant heart flutter before settling back in its chamber. 

 

“Shall we?” He smirked, a decidedly Slytherin trait, before taking her elbow and leading her towards the restaurant. 

 

It was slightly cramped, with the tables pushed close enough together for their conversation to often be lost amongst the other patrons’. Hermione didn’t mind though; the food was delicious, and Theo was attentive. 

 

He asked her about her work and didn’t laugh when she explained that she had taken up a position in the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures as soon as she had left Hogwarts. Theo ohh’d and ahh’d in all the right places as she outlined various pieces of legislation she had helped draft before Hermione realised that she was entirely monopolising the conversation. 

 

_ Stop talking, _ she chided herself.  _ It’s like you’ve never had a date before! _

 

It had been a while, as ashamed as she was to admit it even to herself, since she had been on a date with a guy. Not for a lack of trying - she may not be effortlessly flirty like Ginny or oddly charming like Luna, but she was confident in her ability to source a date. 

 

The past few months, however, had been bitter disappointment after bitter disappointment, as her friends continued to go home with guys from pubs and clubs, and she returned to her apartment alone. 

 

It had taken a toll on her wellbeing, something her friends had picked up on, and that was why Lavender had finally set her up on a blind date. She hated to admit it, but Hermione was nervous; first, she had been nervous that he would stand her up, but now she was just nervous that he wouldn’t want a second date. 

 

_ Get it together, _ her conscience hissed.  _ Stop moping and focus on the gorgeous guy in front of you! _

 

To hide her chagrin, she sat back in her chair and asked him about his profession, forcing a glass of wine to her mouth to prevent further rambling. 

 

“I’m a magical real estate agent,” he answered politely. “Not nearly as impressive as freeing slaves from tyrant masters.” He inclined his head towards her and she preened under his insinuated praise. “But it pays the bills, and I get to work with some interesting people.” 

 

Hermione nodded, mentally checking off her list of prerequisites for potential boyfriends. She could not believe her luck. He was handsome, had a decent career and was every bit the well-groomed, charming young man she assumed he had been raised to be. Why hadn’t she noticed him at school? 

 

She was about to direct the conversation towards their time at Hogwarts when she noticed he was subtly glancing at his watch. Surely he wasn’t ready to leave just yet...it was barely eight o’clock. Her heart began to thud loudly in her chest as annoyance swirled in her belly. 

 

Theodore Nott was the first to admit that he would have to be blind not to notice that Hermione Granger had grown into a very good looking witch. Her hair had settled somewhat, compared to the bird's nest he remembered it resembling back in school, and she had really filled out her robes. He also knew that he should be hanging on to every word she said; she was making serious waves at the Ministry, he had known that before he asked her, and rumours were already beginning to circulate that one day she would become Minister for Magic. 

 

But despite her sparkly brown eyes, flushed skin, and obvious attempts at flirting, the only desire Theo felt pooling in his gut was for the end of the date. As she sipped her drink, Theo discreetly checked the watch on his left wrist. Only 8 pm; probably too early to leave if he was being strictly polite.

 

Hermione, having never been one for tact, eyed him as he raised his gaze back to her face. He at least at the good grace to look ashamed. He opened his mouth to articulate an excuse, but Hermione beat him to it. “Do you need to leave?” she asked, nodding down at his timepiece.

 

“No,” he said quickly. “I was just wondering if you would like another drink.”

 

If she noticed the flush creeping up his cheeks, she didn’t say anything. “Only if you want one,” she replied nonchalantly. Theo noted the smile now tugging at her lips, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to feel positive about his act of chivalry.

 

“Another gin and tonic?”

 

“Yes, please.”

 

The waiter appeared and Theo gave her the order. As he turned back to Hermione, the witch launched into another spiel about her job, and he once again tuned her out. Forty minutes later, they were standing on the street, Hermione looking up at Theo expectantly.

 

“I had a really nice time tonight.” He offered her a small smile.

 

“Likewise.” She licked her lips and tilted her head to the side.

 

_ Oh, Merlin. _ He swallowed thickly.  _ Is she expecting me to kiss her? _

 

For a crazy second, Theo considered it; he could not deny that he was curious about what kind of kisser Hermione Granger would be, but he knew he could not lead her on like that. Instead, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her in a brief, friendly hug.

 

He pulled back quickly and made a point of stepping backwards out of her personal space before anything else could happen. With one last smile, he turned on his heel and strode away. Hermione watched from her position outside of the restaurant, hoping he would glance back and wave. 

 

He did not turn around.

  
  


* * *

Hermione hugged herself tightly as she watched Theo disappear around the corner, before pivoting on the spot and hurrying away in the opposite direction. Glancing up and down the street, she pulled her mobile phone from her purse and quickly dialled a familiar number.

 

“Hermione?”

 

“Ginny, hi!” Hermione greeted her friend. “I just finished my date with Theo.”

 

“Really?” There was a pause and Hermione imagined her red-haired friend checking the clock above the mantelpiece. “It’s not even nine…”

 

“No.” Hermione waved a hand dismissively as she crossed the road. “But I think it went well, listen…” 

 

“Remind me what he said at the end?” Ginny asked as Hermione came to the end of her twenty minute play-by-play.

 

“I had a really nice time tonight,” Hermione answered, letting herself into her apartment.

 

“Nice?” Ginny’s tone suggested she had grimaced around the word.

 

“I think he was just nervous.” Hermione shrugged out of her coat, the phone sandwiched between her ear and shoulder. “He hugged me goodbye, and I think that he might have wanted to kiss me but then he ran off.” She laughed, a short tinkling sound which masked Ginny’s doubtful huff on the other end of the line.

 

“Well, I’m glad it went well,” Ginny said.

 

“Thanks! See you tomorrow!” Hermione grinned as she approached her landline phone. 

 

“Night, Hermione.”

 

As soon as she had disconnected the call, Hermione pressed the play button on her answering machine. “You have no new messages.” The cold robot voice announced. Hermione screwed up her face in disappointment but reasoned that Theo probably wasn’t even home yet.

 

“He’ll call.” She shrugged before heading to the kitchen to make tea.

 

* * *

Owning a bar was a dream many young men aspired to achieve at one point in their lives or another; it had been something Draco Malfoy had joked about with his mates while they were at Hogwarts. Of course, it was just a pipe dream back then. Draco had his inheritance and the Malfoy business to carry on with…only, when he turned 19 and his father had approached him about signing over the responsibility, Draco had declined on a whim and moved to London. He purchased a reasonable apartment in a nice area and became the owner of a new bar just around the corner from his place. Theo had followed soon after, buying an apartment in the same building. It was there that Draco headed, dead on his feet after a particularly gruelling Thursday night.

 

“Whiskey?” he asked by way of greeting as he entered Theo’s apartment.

 

“Good evening to you too.” Theo turned from his position on the couch to arch an eyebrow at his friend. “Please come in,” he drawled. “Make yourself at home, won’t you?” Draco smirked at the exasperated expression on his friend's face, holding the bottle of Ogden's aloft. “Yes, please,” Theo finally muttered.

 

“What are you doing home? I thought you had a date.” Draco offered Theo a glass and then flopped into the recliner next to Theo.

 

Theo shrugged. “It ended early.”

 

“Was she ugly?” Draco wrinkled his nose sympathetically, bringing his own glass to his lips.

 

“No.” Theo twisted open his own drink and sighed. “She just isn’t what I’m looking for.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “You need to get laid, mate.”

 

“Well, now that you mention it – ”

 

Draco choked on his drink. “Merlin have mercy – I know we’re close, but I’m not that way inclined.” He smirked as he indicated Theo’s striped business shirt.

 

“Hey!” Theo threw a cushion at the grinning blond, missing his head by inches. “Trust me, even if I was gay, I wouldn’t be interested in you.”

 

Draco scoffed. “So speaking of getting laid…” he prompted.

 

“I spoke to Luna.” Theo smiled wistfully and Draco fought the bile rising in his throat. “She was at the store and she said she’d call me back.” His smile melted slowly into a frown. “But that was forty-five minutes ago. Do you think I should try her again? I should call her, shouldn’t I?”

 

“Should you call her?” Draco raised his eyebrows, the fine blond arches threatening to disappear into his hairline as he took in the puppy-dog look on his friend’s face.

 

“I should; I’m going to call her.” Theo stood abruptly and flipped open his phone.

 

“No!” Draco launched himself from the recliner and wrapped his hand around Theo’s wrist, effectively tugging the phone from his grasp. “Absolutely not; do not call her.”

 

“But I’m about to go to bed.” Theo attempted to snatch the phone back, but Draco held it out of his reach. “What if she calls but I’m asleep? I should just let her know that I’m going to sleep, so she doesn’t need to call me back.”

 

“You - ” Draco blinked as if he was only just seeing his friend for the first time. “ - are probably insane. What did the witch do to you tonight? Have you smoked something? Do you remember any flashing lights or a wooden stick being pointed at you during any part of the date?”

 

Draco had stepped forward to stare intently into Theo’s face. The brown-haired wizard growled and shoved the blond backwards. “Prat,” he muttered, straightening his shirt. “It’s a good plan.”

 

“It’s the worst plan I’ve ever heard,” Draco snapped, but lowered his hand and offered Theo his phone back. Theo fumbled it but managed to clutch the small piece of plastic in his hand. “I’m going home.” Draco picked up his drink and made for the door. “Don’t call her.”

  
  


* * *

Hermione Granger was not the type of witch most people would picture as the type to wait by the phone for a guy to call…but that’s exactly what she was doing, a week after her date with Theo. Her Hogwarts-aged self would be absolutely mortified to think this was how she spent her evenings in her twenties. Why was she so worried about the lack of contact from the Slytherin wizard?

 

_ It’s not like you haven’t been ghosted before, she told herself sullenly. Why is this surprising? _

 

Maybe it was because she had really enjoyed her time with Theo. He had listened, really listened - or, at least she thought he had. And it had been months since a wizard had shown her any interest at all; it was disheartening to say the least, that he could not even text her to say that he wasn’t interested in pursuing anything further.

 

“He said he had a nice time,” she told Ginny for the umpteenth time.

 

They were at a little cafe down the road from the Ministry, where Hermione, Ginny, and Lavender usually met on their lunch hours.

 

“He’ll call,” Ginny replied, her usual statement; though Hermione noticed that as the days progressed, the conviction with which she uttered the words had begun to lessen.

 

“Maybe I should call him.” Hermione wondered aloud. She frowned around the words, beginning to imagine a satisfying conversation during which she would tell him how cowardly he is, and how he does not deserve a witch as brilliant as she...

 

Ginny shook her head emphatically. “No, don’t call him.”

 

Hermione huffed. “Why not?”

 

Ginny gave her a pitying look. “I waited for years for Harry to finally notice me. Don’t make the same mistake I did.“

 

Lavender arched an eyebrow. “I made the first move with Ron.”

 

Hermione grimaced; she would not soon forget the moment that Lavender had accosted Ron in the Gryffindor common room back in sixth year. Though they were friends now, that moment had seriously affected Hermione, and she often attributed it to the fact that she was still single. Not because she was still in love with Ron, or wanted to be with him - gross; she shuddered - but because he and Harry were really the only friends she had ever had, leaving her at a loss when it came to interacting with possible romantic suitors. 

 

“True.” She sighed.

 

“This is the twenty-first century, Hermione.” Lavender reached across the table and patted Hermione’s hand in a comforting manner. “I say call Theo.”

 

“Yes!” Hermione grinned, pulling her hand from Lavender’s grip so she could clap her palms together in a dangerous display of excitement. “He deserves to know that he’s a prat; ghosting is so cowardly, and it’s not like he couldn’t just say ‘Hermione, I’m not interested’...I mean, we’re not in Hogwarts anymore.” She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t have been offended.”

 

“Not exactly what I meant, Hermione…” Lavender bit her lower lip as she surveyed her friend. “Why not just ring and ask for another - ”

 

“Maybe - ” Hermione dropped the fork, cutting Lavender off. “ - I could visit the pub he goes to...Malfoy’s place.” She snapped her fingers repeatedly, trying to remember the name.

 

“The Dragon’s Lair?” Ginny asked slowly.

 

“Malfoy, as in Draco Malfoy?” Lavender asked.

 

“Yes.” Hermione waved a hand dismissively. “I could just be having a drink there tonight, and then I happen to bump into Theo, and confront him for being a spineless hinkypunk.”

 

Ginny and Lavender shared a look, which Hermione missed as she began to stab her salad angrily with a fork. 

 

“I have to go.” Ginny stood and slung her purse over her shoulder. Turning, she affixed the brunette witch with a stern look that reminded Hermione far too much of Minerva McGonagall. “Please don’t go to The Dragon’s Lair; he’ll call.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes but did not respond.

  
  


* * *

Later that night, Hermione once again sat at her dining room table, the landline phone and her mobile sitting in front of her. Though she willed both or either of them to ring, they both remained silent.

 

She sighed and glanced up at the clock in the kitchen; Theo would more than likely be at the bar by now. A quick drink would be completely harmless…a grin spread across her face as she snatched up her mobile phone and keyed Ginny’s number. It went to voicemail.

 

“Hi Gin,” Hermione began as she collected her house keys. “I’m heading to The Dragon’s Lair, answer your phone if you haven’t changed your mind about Theo deserving a bollocking!” She paused for the time it took her to move from the sitting room to the front door. “I knew you’d see things from my point of view!” She hung up and locked the door behind her before stepping into the cool night air.


	2. If He's Not Dating You...

Draco Malfoy had been raised to believe that aspiring to be anything less than the owner of a business was deeply uncouth, and quite frankly, not becoming of someone of his prestige. While his father had absolutely balked at the news that his only son and heir was opening a bar in the middle of Wizarding London, no less, Draco had at least been able to point out that he would own it. Lucius had almost suffered a stroke, of course, but the silver lining was that he could simply gloss over Draco’s chosen career path with a mumbled: “he runs his own business.” 

 

As he sat in his office, the desk piled high with unpaid invoices, staff rosters, signed payslips, and inventory lists, Draco thought bitterly that his father had never mentioned what a chore it was, to be at the top of the business hierarchy. He had imagined owning a bar would involve serving elaborate cocktails to cute witches, and hanging out with his awesome staff after each shift, downing free booze and grinding to The Weird Sisters on the magical jukebox. 

 

It had been like that for maybe the first two weeks of The Dragon Inn opening. Then, Draco realised, that there was actual work to be done behind the scenes. The liquor didn’t just appear magically on the shelves...well, okay, technically it did because his employees would only have to wave their wands to settle the bottles in order, but someone had to actually order the cases first. He learned that staff were often unreliable; people would call in twenty minutes before their shift, complaining of a headache or a family emergency...and he would be left manning the bar, which, he conceded would have been fine - if it meant chatting up good looking women. The majority of the time was actually spent dealing with slurring fat guys who threatened to hex him if he cut them off. 

 

Running a hand through his hair, Draco sighed and sank further back into his black leather chair. It was four o’clock in the afternoon on a Friday. The bar would soon be packed with regulars, a few bridal parties, and a whole throng of young Hogwarts graduates, looking for an easy score. Though he loved his job, he could not pretend it was easy. 

 

The door to his office swung inwards suddenly, and the form of Pansy Parkinson appeared from behind the glass. She smirked as her gaze settled on him, her eyes sparkling with something that made Draco’s stomach turn. 

 

“Pansy,” he greeted. “What can I do for you?”

 

“I just wanted to let you know I’m here,” she said slowly, sauntering across the room and coming to rest at the edge of his desk. Draco rolled his chair back, a subconscious move. 

 

“Great. You can get started with making sure the wine is actually here tonight. I don’t want a repeat of last weekend.”

 

Pansy’s smile slipped ever so slightly, but she continued to look at him with the same hungry expression. “I figured you’d roster me on tonight…”

 

“We’re understaffed,” Draco clipped. “Everyone who is available will be on tonight.”

 

“Oh.” This dimmed the shimmer a little bit, but Pansy recovered quickly. “Well, I just thought, after Tuesday night, we - ”

 

“It’s amazing how far ten glasses of Firewhiskey will get you.” Draco grimaced, remembering the way he had ground up against the black-haired witch after closing that night. 

 

Pansy giggled. “Yes, well…” She began to draw concentric circles on the top of his desk with her index finger, spreading his paperwork into further disarray. “I was thinking that we could get a drink after work tonight, just the two of us?”

 

Draco exhaled slowly through pursed lips. He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this; it had been a stupid decision, and in his defense there had not been a lot of deciding on his part, given the state of his brain after all that alcohol. He did not regret sleeping with Pansy - it definitely wasn’t the first time - but he knew that she harboured deeper feelings for him than the friendship he felt for her, and he felt like a right git for leading her on. 

 

“Look, Pans,” he said, “Tuesday night was fun.” She grinned and he couldn’t help but return it. “But I don’t want you to think that it was anything more. I love you, but like a friend...are we okay?”

 

Draco forced himself to watch as Pansy’s expression shifted from one of intense hope to utter devastation. 

 

“Yeah, of course.” She nodded quickly and then spun to exit the room. 

 

Draco let his forehead fall to the desk with a thud as the sound of her heels echoed down the hallway. 

  
  


* * *

Pansy Parkinson was not used to hearing no from men. She was a good looking witch - though that had not always been the case - and she had no problem matching her earnings in tips most nights. It infuriated her that the only man who had never seemed to be affected by her charm was the one she wanted the most. Draco had been her main goal since she was eleven when they had met at the Slytherin table after the Sorting Ceremony at Hogwarts. 

 

He was good-looking, charming, and commanded respect wherever he went. Sure, he had had some issues during his teenage years - who hadn’t? Being a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight meant that she had just assumed he would continue their relationship from school, and eventually they would be married. That had not been the case. 

 

The raven-haired witch was still brooding over what could have been with her blond boss, who was now racing around behind the bar, serving drinks to the usual throng of Friday-night boozers, when a shockingly familiar face appeared in the entrance to the bar. 

 

“Granger?” Pansy’s eyes grew wide as Hermione moved towards her. 

 

“Parkinson?” Hermione’s expression mirrored Pansy’s. “Merlin, what are you doing here?”

 

“I work here,” Pansy clipped, her eyebrows still raised almost to her hairline. “What are you doing here?”

 

“What’s it to you?” Hermione sneered. 

 

Pany’s eyes narrowed. “You do realise you’re about to enter a den of snakes?” 

 

“I’m aware.” Hermione huffed. “I’m actually meeting someone here.”

 

“Really?” Pansy smirked. “What does he look like?” She turned, craning her neck as if she might be able to spot the wizard Hermione was here to meet amongst the crowd.

 

Hermione rolled her eyes but shuffled forwards until she had squeezed past Pansy. “I think I see him.”

 

Pansy brought her gaze back to Hermione’s and the two witches stared impassively at each other for a few seconds. Hermione didn’t think it would be appropriate to say ‘good to see you’, because the last time she had actually seen her childhood bully, the girl had offered Harry up to Voldemort, so…

 

“Good luck,” Pansy said, a wry smile on her face. 

 

Hermione nodded once, quirked her lips at the witch and then hurried past her into the bar. The air was thick with multi-coloured smoke, and the smell of stale alcohol. She wrinkled her nose as she squeezed through an amateur Quidditch team; there were no games until tomorrow, she knew, but that didn’t stop some of the more arrogant players from donning their robes and loudly announcing their latest game statistics at their local watering hole. 

 

As she moved, one of the players stepped backwards, theatrically recreating the moment he caught the quaffle and sent her stumbling sideways into a group of young women who appeared to be celebrating a re-entry to singledom. 

 

Luckily, they took pity on her and allowed Hermione to move closer towards the bar. It wasn’t exactly her plan, but she figured one drink wouldn’t hurt, and from her position, she could watch the door. 

 

“What can I get you?” A bartender brought her attention away from the entry, and Hermione fixed a smile on her face as she turned to face him. 

 

“Holy shit.” Her smile faded as quickly as it had appeared as a familiar face greeted her. “Malfoy?”

 

She knew that he owned the bar, of course; it had been all Rita Skeeter reported on for weeks after they all finished Hogwarts. But she had always imagined that he would be the kind of boss to sit in his office - if he even came into work - barking orders at his underlings. The idea that he could be standing behind the bar, his bare forearms flexing as he rested his palms flat on the wooden surface, and asking what can I get you? Was simply mind-boggling. 

 

“Granger?” Draco stepped back as she turned to him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

 

The last time he had seen her was at the graduation ceremony at Hogwarts. It hadn’t been very long, and they had not spoken at the event, or after it. During their final year, they had called an unspoken truce of sorts and had even worked on a couple of projects together. He shook his head; she had not looked like this back then. Had she finally learned how to charm her hair to look less like something a doxy might sleep in?

 

“Why does anybody come to a bar?” Hermione snapped, forcing him out of his trance.

 

“Are you looking for Theo?” Draco arched an eyebrow. 

 

“How do you - ?” Hermione narrowed her eyes, feeling like coming here may have not been the best idea.

 

“He’s one of my best friends.” The blond shrugged, flicking his gaze down the length of the bar. Hermione’s heart leapt; was he looking for Theo so he could call him over? “Look, I have to keep moving so, do you want a drink?”

 

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Yes, please. A gin and tonic.”

 

Draco shot her a knowing look before waving his hand and producing her order. He accepted her Sickles and threw the coins in the cash register with practiced finesse, before bumping it closed with his hip and moving further down the line. 

 

Hermione opened her mouth to call him back, but figured he probably wouldn’t hear her now. She slumped over the bar and nursed her drink, annoyance simmering in her gut. Moodily, her eyes fixated on the doorway until Malfoy came back to access the till. 

 

“Another one?” He nodded towards her glass; she had not noticed it was empty. 

 

“Yes, please,” she replied stiffly. 

 

“Easy, now.” He smirked as he pushed another tumbler towards her. “I’d hate to cut you off.”

 

“Malfoy,” she began tentatively. He froze in his movements to turn away. “Did Theo say anything about me?” 

 

Draco’s smirk slipped and he shook his head. “No, Granger. He told me that he had been out with you and that he had a nice time. That was it.”

 

“He said he had a nice time?” Hermione rolled her eyes. “But then he never called me again, the prat.”  

 

“Merlin help me.” Draco raised his face to the ceiling and hissed through his teeth. “Don’t get caught up on Theo,” he warned, bringing his gaze back to hers. “If he was interested, he would have called. Trust me, he’s not into you like that...don’t waste your time.”

 

With a parting slap against the surface of the bar, Draco disappeared again to serve down the other end. Hermione blinked a few times, allowing his words to sink in. Theo wasn’t interested in her? But he had hugged her, and said he had a nice time - he had even told Draco Malfoy, of all people, that he had been out with Muggle-born Hermione Granger, and that he had enjoyed it. 

 

_ I should have known better, _ she groaned internally as the realisation hit her. She had been so busy analysing all of the ‘signs’ that suggested he had liked her, that she had completely missed the most obvious piece of evidence to prove otherwise; he hadn’t called. The truth settled like a rock in her gut.  _ I’m an idiot... _

 

Her train of thought was cut off as the blond appeared again. She glanced quickly down at her drink, but the glass was still full. When she raised her head, Draco was resting his elbows on the bar, watching her with something akin to curiosity. 

 

“How did you feel the date with Theo went?” he asked her suddenly.

 

“I beg your pardon?” Hermione choked. “I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

 

Draco chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that seemed to shimmy its way down Hermione’s spine; she fought the urge to shiver. 

 

“I’m trying to help you.” He ducked his head to better read her expression. She shot him a scathing glare. 

 

“I thought it was...” she trailed off. Part of her wanted to say ‘excellent’, followed by giving Malfoy the finger, but now that he had asked her the question, she found herself unable to ignore the reality that had eluded her for over a week. “...fine,” she finished lamely. 

 

Draco made a noise of triumph and Hermione’s hand curled into a fist, the urge to punch him as she had done in third year overwhelming. 

 

“We had a lot in common!” she protested as if she could still prove to the blond prat that the date had not been a complete waste of time. 

 

“Like what?”

 

“I - ” Hermione snapped her mouth shut. “I don’t feel comfortable analysing this with you.”

 

“Granger.” He shifted so his face was only a few inches from her own. “I’m Theo’s best mate; humour me.”

 

She glanced around and then sighed. “Fine. We talked about school and found we both favoured Arithmancy. His favourite food is Italian, the same as me; and he wants two kids.”

 

Hermione watched as mirth danced in Draco’s grey eyes and she berated herself for allowing him to get beneath her skin. 

 

“I’m sorry.” He chuckled. “It sounds to me like he just told you what you wanted to hear; how much talking did he actually do?”

 

Hermione’s mouth snapped open, preparing to argue against the idea that she had monopolised the conversation, but then she thought back and realised...Theo had not once offered any piece of information about himself; he had just agreed with her. 

 

_ “I loved Arithmancy,” Hermione said. “I think that would have been my favourite subject. What about you?” _

 

_ “Yeah, definitely. Arithmancy for me as well.”  _

 

Hermione’s shoulders slumped and Draco curled his fingers into fists to stop himself from reaching towards her. 

 

“None,” she muttered. “He just agreed with everything I said.”

 

“Exactly.” Draco stood straight and offered her a tight smile. “He isn’t interested, Granger.”

 

“Well, I think I should at least wait until he shows up.” She glanced towards the door again. “I deserve the opportunity to confront him and tell him what an arse he is.” She scowled. “I mean, how hard is it to be an adult and just tell me that he didn’t enjoy the date?” 

 

“Theo isn’t coming.” Draco frowned. “Did he tell you that he’d be here tonight?”

 

Hermione huffed. “Well, not exactly…”

 

“Granger, look at me.” Draco’s harsh tone forced her gaze back to him. “Stop it. He isn’t into you. Go and find someone else; you’re only setting yourself up for hurt. Has he called you at all?”

 

Hermione fished around in her purse and pulled out her phone; no missed calls, no text messages. She shook her head. 

 

“No.” Hermione huffed. “And I’m not setting myself up for hurt, Malfoy. I just want to give Theo a piece of my mind for being such a - “

 

“Will you wait until closing?” he asked sharply, effectively cutting her off. “I want to continue this conversation, but I can’t stand here all night while customers are demanding drinks.”

 

As if to illustrate his point, a burly Quidditch player pushed his way to the bar, an intense aroma of Firewhiskey and sweat following him. Hermione wrinkled her nose and nodded to Draco. 

 

“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth. “But I’m going to need more of these.” She picked up her glass and held it up, as if she were toasting him, before bringing it to her lips and downing the liquid in one go. 

 

If Malfoy was impressed he did not show it. Instead, he simply waved his hand, procured another gin and tonic, and collected her money. 

 

For the rest of the night, Hermione watched the people in the pub. Now that she wasn’t focused solely on the doorway, she discovered many interesting characters. The Quidditch players were kicked out soon after the smelly wizard had infiltrated her personal space. They were cut off by Pansy, which they did not take kindly to. Hermione had to hand it to the witch though, she didn’t take any of their nonsense and easily sent them packing. 

 

Finally, the last person stumbled from the establishment and Hermione was left feeling like the outsider on the wrong side of the bar. The staff were busy with their clean up routine, and she watched almost mesmerised as Draco moved effortlessly around them, giving directions and delegating tasks. He smiled at her as he began to wipe down the counter, Pansy hovering behind him as she counted the remaining bottles of elf wine. 

 

“So, Granger,” Pansy said, her back to Hermione. “What brings you to The Dragon’s Inn?”

 

“Theo,” Draco answered before Hermione had the chance. “She went on a date with him last week.”

 

Hermione shot him a withering look. “Yes, well, I - “

 

“Tough luck.” Pansy grimaced. “He’s been madly in love with that weird blonde witch from Ravenclaw since sixth year.”

 

“Luna?”

 

“Yeah, I think so.” Pansy shrugged.

 

Draco shot her a look that clearly said I told you so. Hermione willed her cheeks to cool down. Was that what he wanted her to hear? Should she leave now?

 

“Are you sticking around for a drink with us?” Pansy stood and turned to Hermione, handing a notepad with a list of stock numbers to Draco. 

 

“Um...” Hermione glanced at Draco, who arched a challenging eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose I will.”

 

He grinned. “The Golden Girl of Gryffindor hanging with the snakes...I never thought I’d see the day.” 

 

She rolled her eyes but followed when Draco beckoned for her to follow him to one of the recently wiped down tables. She sat between him and Pansy, and they were soon joined by three other members of bar staff. 

 

Hermione accepted one gin and tonic after the other, as the rest of the group sipped Firewhiskey and wine. The chatter quickly turned to the more eventful moments of the night, including when Pansy had stood up to the Quidditch players. 

 

“I don’t think I could have done that.” Hermione shook her head, her words slightly slurred.

 

“It takes practice,” Pansy agreed, “but you learn pretty quickly not to take shit from anyone in this industry.” She swallowed the last of her drink and smacked the glass back onto the table. “Speaking of, I’m exhausted. See you tomorrow.” She nodded to Draco. “Granger.” She grabbed her leather jacket from the back of her chair and sauntered from the bar, waving lazily over her shoulder at the catcalls from her workmates. 

 

“We’re going to head off, too,” said one of the burly security guards. 

 

“So.” Draco turned to Hermione with a crooked smile after the rest of the crew had left. “Was your night a complete disaster?”

 

“No,” Hermione said slowly. She bit her lower lip; Draco may not be her friend, but he was close to Theo, and if she didn’t ask, would she always be left wondering ‘what if’? “Is Theo really in love with Luna?”

 

Draco’s eyebrows shot towards his hairline, but he recovered quickly. “Yes,” he replied. “I don’t think he’s ever stopped loving her.”

 

“So there’s no chance he’ll call me then.” She pouted, the alcohol now well and truly affecting her ability to filter her words. 

 

“I told you, Granger.” Draco stood and began to collect the glasses. “If a guy - any guy, not just Theo - hasn’t called by now, chances are he never will.”

 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a cynical bastard?”

 

“Yes,” he snapped, “and I agree with them.” At least I’m not a delusional damsel in dis- “

 

“Hey!” She slipped from her seat, wobbling over to where he now stood near the bar. “That’s unfair. I’m not delusional!”

 

“I didn’t say you were,” he said with a condescending smile. “But you are currently in my bar, drunk, moaning about a guy who has no interest in you.”

 

“I only came here to tell him that he’s a c-coward!” she hiccupped. 

 

“Sure, Granger.” He nodded slowly. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

 

“What helps me sleep at night is knowing I’m not a depressed, damaged...dickhead!” 

 

He chuckled darkly. “Ouch,” he deadpanned. “You’re going to have to try a bit harder than some slurred alliteration to hurt me.” 

 

Hermione tilted her head to the side as she watched him wipe out the glasses with a dishcloth. He could have done it by magic, of course, but there was something almost hypnotic watching him twist the checked scrap of material into the glass tumblers. 

 

“You know what I think?” Hermione leaned on the bar, resting her forearms on the cool surface. Draco arched an eyebrow as he placed the glass on the draining board. “I think you were exactly like me once...you were head over heels in love with a witch and then…”  She paused for emphasis, a cruel smile curving at her lips as his face drained of colour. “...she broke your heart.”

 

The silence stretched between them, like an old rubber band, liable to snap at any second. Unfortunately for Draco, he seemed to be the only one to notice how awkward the atmosphere had become. 

 

“Ten points to Gryffindor,” he finally bit out. “You hit the gnome on the head, Granger.” 

 

“Really?” She blinked, her smile slipping. “I’m so - I mean, I didn’t - “

 

“Leave it.” He flung the tea towel over his shoulder and held a hand up to indicate that she should shut her mouth. “I think it’s time for you to go.” 

 

His piercing grey eyes were flat, the mischievous glint she had noticed before no longer apparent. She swallowed thickly and stumbled away from the bar, her heels clicking erratically against the floor. 

 

Draco sighed as he watched her try to find her footing. “Granger.” He pinched his nose between thumb and forefinger. “I know I’m going to regret this…” 

 

She stopped flailing for a second, holding her arms away from her body to maintain her balance. With wide eyes, she watched as he dragged a napkin across the bar towards him, conjuring a pen with his right hand. 

 

“This is my number,” he said as he scribbled on to the paper. “Call me if you need advice when you meet the next guy.” 

 

“I don’t need your help, Malfoy,” she scoffed. He looked her up and down, a knowing smirk on his face. “I don’t,” she repeated. 

 

“Okay.” He nodded. “Well, do me a favour and never try to track Theo down again.” 

 

“Done.” Hermione tried to sneer but it came off as more of a grimace. “And you,” she said, “can tell Theo that if he does change his mind and he wants to call me - ”

 

“He won’t.” Draco huffed, having reached his wit's end with the insufferable, drunk swot. “If he liked you, he would have called; that’s the rule.”

 

“But what if I’m the exception to the rule?” she countered. 

 

“You’re not.” 

 

“But - “

 

“No buts.” He shook his head. Hermione exhaled forcefully through her mouth, and Draco seemed to understand that she was gearing up to argue some more. He rolled his eyes as he continued. “Look, I know what blowing a girl off looks like, believe me. I do it quite often myself, so trust me. If I say Theo - or any wizard, for that matter - doesn’t give a shit, he genuinely doesn't give a shit. No exceptions.”

 

Hermione stared at him for a few seconds. The weight of his words seemed to float down from the ceiling and settled on her shoulders, heavy and unwelcome. Her brain was foggy from the alcohol and somehow she could not piece together the Draco Malfoy she had known when they were children, and this oracle of dating knowledge. 

 

“So, what?” She bit her lower lip. “Do I just give up, or - ?”

 

With a blinding grin, he pressed his fingertips to the napkin, still sitting in front of him, and pushed it across the bar. Hermione staggered forwards and picked it up gingerly. 

 

“Fine.” She sighed as she began to stumble towards the door again. “Call you never, Malfoy!”


	3. If He's Standing You Up...

The following week Hermione found herself on a foreign couch, making out with a guy she had met at a bar. She had tried to remember all of the things Draco had said about men but found it was quite difficult with large hands roving all over you...it had been so long…but then...

 

“C-can we slow down?” Hermione panted against his lips. 

 

He pulled back slightly, a crooked smile on his face. “Sure,” he said, placing a chaste kiss against her mouth. “Only, I’m going out of town for work in a couple of days and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

 

“Really?” Hermione frowned as he began to pepper hot kisses down her neck. 

 

He had told her he was a part-time assistant at the London Owl Post Office; not exactly a position which would typically require any form of travel. 

 

“Would you excuse me?” she said, pushing against his shoulders. “Where’s your bathroom?” 

 

He pointed impatiently towards the hallway. “The last door on your right,” he said. 

 

“Thank you.” She smiled, discreetly swiping her purse and hurrying down the hallway. 

 

Once ensconced in his bathroom, Hermione sat on the loo, lid down, and fumbled in her purse for her phone. She scrolled quickly through the contacts and pressed down on the button once she had found Draco’s name. 

 

Draco was at home, a sexy blonde witch straddling his lap as his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. 

 

“Mmmm.” The witch moaned. “That feels nice.” 

 

With a small smile, he dug around in his pocket and pulled the device from it. Seeing the caller ID, he shifted the witch off his lap and answered the phone. 

 

“One second, love,” he said. “Hello?” 

 

“Malfoy? Hi, it’s Hermione...Granger”

 

“Hello.” He smirked. “What happened to never calling me?”

 

Her cheeks flushed but she refused to let him get to her. “I was drunk,” she said petulantly. “Anyway, I need your help.”

 

“What’s up?” He chuckled, but Hermione chose to ignore him.

 

“So I’m making out with this guy - ”

 

“Run,” he said, all traces of humour gone.

 

Hermione frowned. “But I haven’t told you - “

 

“Fine.” Draco huffed. “Continue.”

 

“I’m making out with this guy, and I said I wanted to wait before becoming...intimate...and he says he’s going out of town this week?” 

 

“Run,” Draco repeated. 

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes!” Draco insisted. “He’s messing with you; clearly, he wants a shag - ” Hermione made an indignant noise but Draco ignored it. “ - and he doesn’t really like you.” 

 

“But - ”

 

“No buts, Granger,” Draco said firmly. 

 

“Well…” Hermione exhaled forcefully through her mouth. “What do I do now? I’m sort of hiding out in his bathroom…”

 

“I know what I’d do,” Draco said immediately. “Have a bit of fun, mess with him. Make him sweat.”

 

“You really are a Slytherin.” Hermione wrinkled her nose. 

 

“Why, thank you.” 

 

“Not a compliment,” she muttered. 

 

“Look.” His tone was serious again. “Get out of there and I’ll call you later. I have a friend you might like; I’ll organise for you to meet him this week.” 

 

“Oh.” She blinked. “Okay.”

 

“Later, Granger.”

 

Before Hermione had a chance to respond, Draco had ended the call, and she was left with silence. 

 

_ Okay, _ she thought as she exited the bathroom,  _ let’s mess with him.  _

 

He was still lounging on the couch, exactly where she had left him, though his expression was now one of impatience. She smiled seductively as she sashayed back towards him. His responding smile was tight, but hunger flared in his eyes and Hermione had to bite down on the grin that threatened to spread across her face. 

 

“Better?” he asked as she came to a stop in front of him. 

 

“Oh, yes.” She purred, placing her left knee next to his right thigh. “I’ve never been better.” She brought her right knee up on to the couch as well, effectively straddling him 

 

“Hmmm.” He bit his lower lip as she sank onto his lap. 

 

She ducked her head, beginning to pepper kisses across his jaw and down his neck, earning another moan from the wizard. Experimentally, she rolled her hips, fighting the shudder as it rolled up her spine at the sensation of his hard length against her jean-clad core. 

 

His fingers sank into the flesh of her thighs and he allowed his head to fall back against the lounge. 

 

“I knew you’d come around,” he hissed through his teeth. Hermione hummed, a non-committal sound, but he seemed satisfied as he jerked his hips back up into her. “Come on.” He brought his gaze back to hers, speaking in what was meant to be a seductive voice. “Take your shirt off for me.”

 

_ Really?  _ Hermione stilled.  _ He expects me to strip myself? Oh no, this ends now! _

 

She smiled sweetly and shifted in his lap, being sure to maintain eye contact as she lifted herself off of him. Purposefully, she slipped as she moved, her left knee meeting his groin with considerable force. 

 

“Fuck!” he cried out, shoving her from him and cupping his balls. “You stupid bitch, what the hell?”

 

Hermione jumped to her feet, pointing her wand at his chest; she was savagely pleased to see that his eyes were streaming as he hunched over his lap. She kept her wand trained on him as she quickly gathered her things and moved towards the exit.

 

“A tip?” She smiled sardonically as she reached the door. “Don’t ever push a girl into doing something she’s not ready to do. It makes you an insensitive buffoon at best, and a rapist at worst.” 

 

With that, she slammed the door shut, the sound reverberating down the hallway as she made her timely exit. She had to hand it to Malfoy, as much as she loathed to admit it; he really did know what he was talking about when it came to men.

  
  


* * *

On Thursday, Hermione arrived at the bar wearing a black dress and heels. She felt incredibly overdressed as she stood at one of the tables dotted around the bustling pub, sipping on a gin and tonic. 

 

Relief coursed through her as Draco entered and she noted he was wearing a suit. A grin spread across her face as they made eye contact and he began to saunter towards her.

 

“Hey,” he said, nodding at a waitress who passed. 

 

“Hi.” Hermione smiled, her attention now back at the entrance. “So I’ve been thinking about how I want to play this,” she said quickly. “I thought I’d - ”

 

“Granger.” Draco tried to interrupt, but Hermione continued. 

 

“ - try the aloof angle; you know, polite but unattainable. That’s what you Slytherins like is- ”

 

“Granger!” Draco snapped. Hermione’s mouth shut and she looked up at him, wide-eyed. “Blaise isn’t coming.”

 

“What?” Hermione felt like she had swallowed a stone, the weight in her stomach causing a chain reaction of heat to flood her veins. “I guess that was to be expected,” she muttered, pursing her lips around her straw. 

 

Blaise Zabini had been in her year at Hogwarts, but she had never spoken a word to him. He had been a member of the Slug Club in their sixth year, but Hermione had been too preoccupied with supporting Harry to notice him properly.

 

The Italian wizard, Draco had filled her in, was the son of a very beautiful witch who had been married - and subsequently widowed - more times than one cared to count, her husbands all meeting the same grisly end. Apparently, her only son had taken the post of Head of the Zabini household, and while he had not joined Voldemort, he had certainly sympathised with his ideals. 

 

_ That’s probably it, _ Hermione thought.  _ He found out that it’s me - not just a Muggleborn but the Muggleborn, and that’s why he isn’t here. Why I thought that this would actually work out… _

 

While Hermione would not describe herself as a fanciful witch, she had been excited for her date with Blaise. He sounded intelligent, he had an interesting job running a consultancy firm with branches in both wizarding London and Rome. She would be lying if she said that she was not disappointed, though daydreaming of what his lips would feel like against hers was probably too far. 

 

She sighed as the urge to throw back the last of her drink before heading home took over. At the sound, Draco frowned down at her. 

 

“Hey.” He elbowed her in the ribs. “Don’t overthink it, Granger. It’s my fault.” He nodded in gratitude towards the waitress as she arrived with his Firewhiskey. “I told him Friday instead of Thursday.” 

 

“Oh.”

 

“I’ll reschedule it, don’t worry.” 

 

Hermione huffed. While it was better than being stood up for real, she couldn't help feeling annoyed.

 

_ And I shaved my legs and everything!  _

 

Hermione continued to sip her drink as her gaze wandered around the bar; perhaps if she could find a different wizard, the night wouldn't be completely wasted. Her eyes landed on a pretty blonde woman near the bar who was chatting up a tall, dark haired guy with a beard. 

 

“Great,” she scoffed. “Here I am with my former arch nemesis who can’t tell the days apart, and this girl is probably meeting her soul mate.” She indicated the couple with her now empty drink. 

 

“The blonde?” Draco lifted his chin in the same direction and Hermione nodded. “Merlin, no. Not even close.”

 

“Really?” Hermione leant against the table, smirking. “How can you tell?”

 

“Watch his body language,” Draco answered, his gaze still trained on the blonde woman, who was flicking her hair over her shoulder and batting her eyelashes up at the bearded man. He was smiling, but Hermione conceded that the expression looked strained, and he kept drinking from his beer bottle, using the movement to gaze around the room. 

 

During one of his too-long sips, another guy who was standing behind the blonde woman bumped into her, causing her to spill her drink down the front of her blouse. She glanced down and then back at the guy who had knocked her, accepting a wet towel as it appeared from over the bar. Hermione watched, her jaw tightening in anger, as the beer-drinking bearded guy used the chaos to slip away. By the time the woman had cleaned herself and looked in his direction, he was gone. 

 

“Wow,” Hermione observed aloud. “What a coward. Why couldn’t he have just told her that he’s not interested?”

 

“Come off it,” Draco scoffed. “Us men have a small amount of self-preservation; we’d rather not have a drink thrown in our face, or be slapped, or have to deal with the crying - ”

 

“Ugh.” Hermione cut him off, wrinkling her nose. “You’re such a misogynistic pig.”

 

“Why thank you.” Draco grinned, but the expression slipped suddenly and he tapped Hermione on the shoulder. 

 

“What?” 

 

“See here?” He pointed discreetly towards the blonde woman. “The guy on the other side of her?” 

 

“Mmm?” Hermione nodded, still seething at his earlier statements.

 

“He’s going to buy her drinks all night, but when he asks for her number or to see her again, she’ll decline and insist it’s because there’s no  _ spark _ .”

 

“Well, that’s fair enough.” Hermione shrugged, watching as the new guy smiled flirtily at the blonde woman, who was beginning to move away from the bar. “You need a spark.”

 

“The spark is bullshit.” Draco grimaced. 

 

Feeling slightly exasperated, Hermione excused herself to go to the bar; if she was going to listen to Malfoy’s lecture on the spark and its hype in modern culture, she was going to need a refill. The music had been turned up and it seemed that the pub had doubled its number of patrons since Draco had arrived. To his credit, he was still standing where she had left him when she returned with her drink thirty minutes later. 

 

“So,” she said. “Enlighten me.”

 

He smirked but didn’t miss a beat. “The spark is something guys invented so they could bed witches and then never call them again.”

 

“Interesting,” Hermione deadpanned, sipping her drink. 

 

Draco’s eyes narrowed and he leaned in closer, but otherwise, he ignored her interruption. “It’s a myth that has been circulated so that we can treat girls like crap, and then convince you that the anxiety that you feel not knowing where you stand with a guy is a spark. And girls love it! You live for the drama!”

 

“I don’t!” Hermione insisted, yelling over the music. “I hate drama...I just want to find a decent guy and date him; no drama.”

 

“Oh, but you do, Granger.” He grinned around his glass. “You all love the drama. Tell me.” He held up a finger as Hermione opened her mouth to argue. “Do you read those trashy romance novels, or watch stupid romantic movies, picturing yourself as the leading lady, waiting to be swept off your feet by some knight in shining armour - who really, is just an idiot in tin foil?”

 

Hermione blinked up at him, the alcohol making her brain fuzzy. “Maybe…” she said slowly. 

 

“Exactly!” Draco smacked his drink down on to the table and Hermione jumped. “Because you live for that crap! The adrenaline coursing through your veins as the guy leaves and comes back, leaves and comes back - total douchebaggery that you all lap up as if emotional abuse is not only desirable but a prerequisite of any romantic relationship you have in real life!” 

 

“No.” Hermione frowned, though deep down she thought he was probably on to something. 

 

“Granger.” Draco smirked. “You need to be more like me.”

 

“Like you?” Hermione choked on her drink, unable to contain her mirth. “Why would I want to be anything like you, Malfoy?” 

 

“If a girl likes me, great.” He shrugged. “But if she doesn’t, it’s no big deal; there are plenty more witches out there. Probably with deeper Daddy issues and fewer morals.” 

 

“Inspiring.” Hermione rolled her eyes. 

 

“Right?” Draco grinned. 

 

For a moment there was silence as they both downed the last of their drinks. Hermione began to reflect on his words; she liked to think she was the same way. If a guy didn’t like her, it wasn’t an issue. All she asked for was respect, which included effective communication about what each party wanted from the date, relationship, etc. Why was it so hard to find a guy who could communicate without feeling the need to lie or change the truth to suit the perceived sensibilities of women? 

 

But that didn’t explain why she felt so jaded by Theo and Blaise. The truth bounced around her skull, making her feel slightly dizzy as she glanced down into her empty glass. Hermione Granger did not respond well to the idea of failure, even if it was in something as fickle as dating. The fact that she was still single in her mid-twenties was enough to make her hyperventilate if she pondered it long enough. Not because she desperately wanted a man or marriage or anything like that; no, it was because she had assumed that by now her life would have been a little more complete than Crookshanks, work, and random hookups which only fed the beast within who told her she was failing, in a voice uncannily like McGonagall’s. 

 

Emboldened by her gin, Hermione asked the question that had been plaguing her for almost a week now. 

 

“Why are you helping me?”

 

Draco looked up, appraising her slowly. Finally, he shrugged one shoulder. “I like you.”

 

Hermione choked on her drink again, sending droplets of gin and tonic all over the table.  “You like me?” she rasped, her eyes beginning to water.

 

“Not like that.” Draco knocked her shoulder with his and Hermione felt her blush deepen. “I mean, I like you like...the peacocks my father has - the albino ones - you know, when I was a kid I felt obliged to put sunblock charms on them so they wouldn’t get burned, the poor, helpless - ow!” 

 

Hermione had punched him in the arm. “You deserved it.” She glared at him, though there was no malice in her eyes. 

 

“I was going to invite you to a party I’m having.” He pouted, rubbing his arm. “But if you’re going to physically assault the guests, I’d rather you don’t come.”

 

Now too drunk to really take in his words, Hermione threw her head back and laughed; a tinkling sound that ran around the pub, drawing a few appreciative glances from men. 

 

Draco smirked and moved closer to Hermione. “Come on.” He gripped her elbow. “Let’s get you home.”


	4. If He's Not Asking You Out...

Hermione found herself slipping into daydreams over the following week. At first, they featured the handsome Italian wizard she was excited to finally re-meet.

 

When Draco had first suggested it, Hermione had laughed. Blaise Zabini? Yet another Slytherin to stand her up or let her down? No, thank you… But then Draco had explained that Blaise was intelligent, he owned a multi-National company, and apparently, he was excited to rendezvous with Hermione. 

 

_ “It’s actually quite concerning.” Draco had drawled. “Seeing how excited he is to meet you again, without all the prejudice this time.” _

 

Soon, though, the moments of daydreaming she stole at work and during time with the girls starred Draco. It took longer than she would like to admit to realise this. 

 

She told herself it was because he was the one she was waiting on to set up her date with Blaise, but after three days of experiencing a delicious swooping sensation in her belly every time the blond crossed her mind (which was bloody often), it was harder to convince herself that it wasn’t something more. 

 

On Friday night she decided it would be best to stay home. And it was definitely because she was tired and had just finished a particularly grueling week at work; it did not have anything to do with her lack of desire to meet any other guy except Draco. 

 

She pressed play on her DVD machine and settled back on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. As the opening credits rolled over the screen, her phone rang. Hermione shuffled so she could pull the device from the pocket of her dressing gown, and without looking at the caller ID, she answered. 

 

“Hello?”

 

“Granger?”

 

“Malfoy?”

 

“You’re home,” he stated. Hermione pressed the receiver closer to her ear, squinting her eyes as she strained to hear him over the noise of the bar. 

 

“Umm…” She glanced around her apartment, a frown on her face. “Yes? Where else am I meant to be?”

 

“It’s Friday night,” he said. Hermione imagined him shrugging. “Out?” 

 

“Well, it turns out that by following your advice and only going out with guys who actually like me...I don’t have anyone to go out with,” Hermione deadpanned.

 

“Ha ha.” He shot back. “I might have a solution for you then. I’m not sure if you remember me telling you this, given how pissed you were last Thursday, but I’m having a party tomorrow night; you should come.”

 

A faint memory danced on the edge of her mind, but it was as if the image was being held underwater; those gin and tonics had completely befuddled her mind. Hermione puffed out her cheeks, considering his offer for a moment before exhaling forcefully through her mouth. 

 

“I don’t know,” she said. “Won’t Theo be there? I don’t think I could stand that level of awkward. And I’m not exactly known for keeping my mouth shut; I still haven’t had a chance to give him a piece of my mind for ghost- ”

 

“No.” Draco cut her off quickly. “He’s out of town for the weekend, some real estate conference. I don’t know - boring. Anyway, there’ll be plenty of single guys, so - ”

 

“Oh, thank goodness.” Hermione smirked, settling herself back against the couch. “I was worried that I wouldn’t have enough opportunities to completely embarrass myself.”

 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Granger.” Draco huffed. “I’ll be there, I’ll walk you through it.” 

 

Instinctively, Hermione’s teeth caught her lower lip and she smiled into the receiver. “So, is it going to be a big party, or more like a small gath- ”

 

She was cut off by an ear-shattering crash on the other side of the receiver. 

 

“Shit,” Draco hissed. “I have to go; someone’s dropped a tonne of Firewhiskey. See you tomorrow.” 

 

The line went dead and Hermione’s ears rang with the sudden silence. She stared at the phone as she brought it slowly away from her ear. What an odd little encounter. 

 

Settling once more into a comfortable position, she fisted her hand into the popcorn and forced her attention back to her DVD, Some Kind of Wonderful. As Watts entered the screen, Hermione focused on the conversation between the leading characters, Watts and Keith Nelson. As she reached once more for the popcorn, she delivered the line with Watts.

 

“Amanda Jones is no minor leaguer who’ll be swept off her feet at the touch of your amateur lips…”

 

She chuckled as the scene continued, watching as the level of awkwardness and suspense increased. 

 

_ “Pretend I’m a girl, okay?... I mean, pretend I’m  _ her _. Amanda…”  _ Watts said.

 

Mary Stuart Masterson rolled her eyes up at Eric Stoltz in the scene and Hermione’s brain began to positively vibrate in her skull. Images began to swirl and distort before her eyes until Watts resembled Draco, and Keith had morphed into her. 

 

_ What the…? _

 

She leaned forward as the scene played out, watching closely as TV Hermione walked towards TV Draco, and allowed him to wrap his arms around her before - 

 

Hermione gasped. “Oh my God.” Hermione sat up quickly, sending half of the popcorn on to the seat next to her. “He’s into me…” 

  
  


* * *

“I’m Eric Stoltz, he’s Mary Stuart Masterson,” she explained to Ginny at brunch the next morning. 

 

“Okay, let’s pretend I understand what the hell you’re talking about for a second,” Ginny said around a mouthful of bacon. “What are you going to do?”

 

“I’m going to go to his party tonight,” Hermione said, as though it were obvious. 

 

“Why?”

 

“He’s only pretending to set me up with Blaise,” she said. “But what he really wants is me for himself...you really need to watch a movie sometime.”

 

Ginny shrugged and stabbed her fork into more bacon. “You’re one hundred percent on this, then?”

 

“He called me last night.” Hermione leaned forward, her expression suggesting that this fact alone proved her entire theory. 

 

“You told me,” Ginny deadpanned. “Look, Hermione.” She wiped her mouth on her napkin and affixed the brunette witch with a stare that could rival the maternal instincts of Molly Weasley. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. You tend to run into things full out, and I just - ”

 

“Ginny.” Hermione cut her friend off, smiling. “I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing.”

 

“Okay.” The redhead sighed. “If you’re sure.”

  
  


* * *

That night found Hermione dressed in a red dress and black ankle boots in Draco’s apartment. She had arrived half an hour later than he’d stated, unwilling to seem too eager. Since then, she had been standing in a corner, alone, sipping a too-sweet pre-mixed drink from a glass bottle. 

 

She sighed, lifting her gaze for what felt like the hundredth time in five minutes, and once again noticed a distinct lack of platinum blond amongst the crowd. 

 

There were a few familiar faces milling about. Michael Corner and Terry Boot had both come over to say hello to her, but Hermione was wary of initiating a conversation that could last longer than five minutes, lest Draco appear and want to talk to her. 

 

Across the room, Luna Lovegood was dancing - well, Hermione assumed that was what the odd, jerky movements were meant to be - wearing a dress of midnight blue, patterned with shimmering swirls; an aesthetic which reminded Hermione of Van Gogh’s Starry Starry Night painting. Her knee-high boots were a vivid neon-orange, and her usual Dirigible plum earrings swung from her ears. Though the blonde witch had never been one of her favourite people, Hermione had found herself with a begrudging respect for the Ravenclaw; though now, she supposed, she would rather not engage her in conversation since Theo was apparently in love with her. The thought of losing out to Luna Lovegood of all people…

 

Hermione shook herself as a familiar voice sounded to her left.

 

“Hermione Granger!”

 

“Parvati?” Hermione turned to find herself looking at the dark-haired witch. 

 

“My goodness, I haven’t seen you since - ” Parvati pressed her lips together, offering Hermione an awkward smile. 

 

“Since the Final Battle.” Hermione supplied. “How are you?”

 

“I’m great,” Parvati said. “Married.” She flashed a huge ring under Hermione’s nose. “What about you?”

 

“Wonderful,” Hermione deadpanned. “Not married.” 

 

Parvati tutted, a look of pity in her brown eyes. “Boyfriend?”

 

“No,” Hermione said slowly, raising her gaze to sweep over the crowd again. “Not yet, anyway.”

 

She hadn’t meant to utter the last part aloud, and even though it had slipped out at barely above a whisper, Parvati latched on to it like a lifeline. 

 

“Do tell!” She bumped Hermione’s shoulder with her own and began to scan the crowd. “Let’s see...who would Hermione Granger be interested in?”

 

Hermione bit her tongue and willed the heat to dissipate from her cheeks. 

 

“I’m going to get another drink.” She offered Parvati a tight smile. “Lovely to see you.” 

 

With that, she pushed away from the wall and began weaving her way through the crowd, leaving Parvati open-mouthed behind her. 

 

_ Bloody chit,  _ Hermione thought savagely as she squeezed herself between sweaty bodies, bumping and grinding to the music.  _ Of course she’s married, as if it’s a bloody competition.  _

 

Parvati and Lavender had been the absolute bane of Hermione’s existence while they were at Hogwarts. They were giggly and girly and silly, and Hermione could not understand them. Now they were adults, Hermione quite liked Lavender, but Parvati, it seemed, had not changed much from the hopeless gossip she had been in third year. 

 

By the time she reached the kitchen, Hermione was scowling, having been groped by an unknown hand, and covered in beer all from simply crossing the living room. Intent on finding a drink that didn’t taste like it had the power to induce a diabetic coma, as well as some napkins, she did not look up as she hurried across the tiles of the galley-style kitchen. 

 

“Oof!” She bounded off a hard, horizontal surface. 

 

“Are you okay?” A concerned voice forced her gaze up, but as recognition danced in his grey eyes, Malfoy’s polite facade slipped. “Oh, it’s you.” He smirked. “You made it!”

 

“Of course!” She moved backwards and ran her hands over the front of her dress.

 

He stepped aside, allowing her to continue into the kitchen. Settling his hip against the counter, he watched as she opened his fridge and helped herself to a bottle of wine. 

 

“Have you met any guys that you might be interested in yet?” he asked, lifting his own drink to his lips.

 

“No,” Hermione said dryly as she poured the wine into a glass. “Not yet.” 

 

“Oh well.” Draco shrugged. “I’m actually really looking forward to introducing you to Blaise; I feel like you two are going to hit it off.” 

 

“Oh yeah,” Hermione scoffed. “Me too.” 

 

Hermione screwed the lid back on the bottle and turned to face him, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips.

 

_ Blaise,  _ she thought to herself.  _ Have you even spoken to him about me, Malfoy? _

 

“Okay.” Draco frowned, watching her for a moment; was she feeling alright? When she continued to smirk at him, Draco pushed himself away from the counter and cleared his throat. “Well, would you mind doing me a favour?”

 

“Sure,” Hermione said eagerly, stepping forward. 

 

“Could you fill the chip bowls for me?” He flashed her a grin as he began walking backwards out of the kitchen. “Thanks!” 

 

Hermione’s smile dimmed somewhat as he spun on his heel and sauntered away from her. Okay, she thought to herself, perhaps he wants me to co-host… 

 

With that, she jumped into action, filling chip bowls and delivering drink orders all over the apartment. Around eleven, she noticed that the dip had run out and retired to the kitchen to mix some more. Draco appeared moments later and her stomach swooped as she imagined his intention of taking her in his arms and kissing her against the bench. 

 

“Hi,” she greeted him, pressing her back against the counter. 

 

“Hey.” He smiled. “I just need to head to the bar to get some more booze. I won’t be long.” 

 

Hermione did not respond, but he didn’t wait for a reaction either. Her stomach sank towards her pelvis; she’d heard of playing hard to get but this was bordering on ridiculous.

 

Figuring that he probably just didn’t want to have their first real romantic moment in front of a hundred people, Hermione happily turned back to the dip...except it was now sitting in the hands of a familiar blonde woman. 

 

“Thanks,” she said, pointing at the dip. 

 

“Oh, I was just - “ 

 

“Hmm.” The woman flicked the surface of the dip with her index finger and then brought it to her mouth, licking the creamy substance off of the digit. “Could use some more salt.” Hermione moved to find the salt, but the woman ducked around her. “It’s okay, I can do it.” 

 

Hermione watched with red cheeks as the woman deftly moved around the kitchen, sprinkling the salt into the dip and then replacing the shaker with ease. She flashed Hermione a wide grin as she flounced from the kitchen. 

 

Hermione made a face at her retreating back before heading back out into the party. 

  
  


Hours later, Hermione found herself alone in the apartment with Draco and the blonde from the dip encounter. She tried not to sneer as she picked up empty beer bottles and plastic cups, watching while they played a Muggle video game on his large television. 

 

Not one for video games, Hermione had no idea exactly what they were playing, but she could judge from their conversation that the blonde was winning. As she tied the strings on the final garbage bag, Hermione came to stand in view of the couch they were currently occupying. 

 

“Wow,” she said, making a show of looking down at her watch. “Three in the morning…” 

 

They ignored her. 

 

“No, no, no, no!” Draco began hitting the buttons furiously on his controller while the blonde cackled next to him. 

 

“Take that!” she shouted, throwing down her controller and holding her arms over her head. “I don’t know why you insist on challenging me.” 

 

“Yeah, well I don’t know why I still agree to play with you, Astoria.” Draco dropped his controller on to the coffee table and rolled his eyes. 

 

“Wait.” Astoria glanced up at Hermione. “Did you say three?” 

 

“Yes.” Hermione pushed herself off the wall and walked forward until her shins hit the coffee table. 

 

“Shit.” Astoria stood. “I’ve got to go. Great game, Draco.” She offered the blonde wizard her fist, which he bumped with his. Hermione watched as Astoria left without looking back. 

 

“So,” she said, taking a seat next to Draco. 

 

“You know, she’s right,” he said, indicating the direction of the front door with his thumb. “It is really late.” 

 

He glanced at her expectantly, and Hermione felt her stomach flip over. Was this his way of asking her to leave? What about all the signs...didn’t he want…? She frowned, the feeling of rejection quickly eclipsed by one of frustration. 

 

_ What is it with men and an inability to communicate? _ She thought incredulously. 

 

Standing slowly, she watched Malfoy as he appraised her, a curious glint in his eye. 

 

“Are you okay?” he asked as he got to his feet. 

 

“Fine,” she ground out, grabbing her purse and jacket from the back of the couch before hurrying towards the door.

 

“Well,” he said, his tone somewhat uncertain as he followed her. “Thanks so much for coming, it was nice to see you.”

 

Hermione’s head snapped up and she fixed him with a hot glare. “Nice to see me?” 

 

“Um...yes?” 

 

Hermione scoffed. “Great.” She reached for the handle but Draco gripped her forearm. 

 

“What the hell is going on with you?” he demanded, his fingers sinking almost painfully into her flesh. 

 

“You really are the most obtuse, ignorant prat I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet, Malfoy,” she spat, wrenching her arm from his grasp. 

 

“As flattered as I am,” he deadpanned, his eyes wide in confusion. “Would you mind explaining exactly what this tantrum is about? I thought you had a good time, I saw you talking to Corner and Boot, and - ”

 

“Do you like me?” she blurted out, ignoring the way her cheeks burned as the words tumbled from her mouth. 

 

“What?” Draco blinked. 

 

Her gaze never wavered from his face. “I mean, I know you said you don’t like me in  _ that way _ , but...” She licked her lips. “...do you?” 

 

Draco was silent for the longest two seconds of Hermione’s life. He stared at her as if he had never really seen her before. 

 

“Why would you think that?” he finally rasped. 

 

“Because - ” Her heart was beating a crazy staccato in her ribcage and the desire to turn and run threatened to consume her. “ - Because you answered my call even though you were with a girl, and you kept finding ways to hang out with me quoting ‘Blaise’, and I just…” As Draco’s pained expression finally registered in Hermione’s mind, she trailed off. “Shit.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Draco sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. He began to walk away from her, then turned sharply on his heel. “What have I been saying all this time?” He asked softly, though his tone was made of knives. “If a guy wants to be with you,  _ he will make it happen _ ! He will ask you out - have I ever asked you out?” 

 

He came to stand in front of her again, one hand on his hip and the other stretched out towards her to signal that she should answer him. Feeling as though she was a naughty student who had been summoned to the Headmaster's office for a scolding, Hermione’s eyes pricked with angry tears. 

 

“No…” 

 

“Exactly!” Draco exploded. “Merlin have mercy...I don’t understand why girls do this.” He resumed his pacing and Hermione watched as the tears threatened to cascade down her cheeks. “You invent these things - these  _ signs _ \- in your mind, and analyse every move a guy makes and then concoct a ridiculous narrative.” He paused to look at her again. “It’s pathetic.” 

 

Her chest heaved with the exertion of maintaining a steady stream of oxygen while also trying to keep from sobbing uncontrollably against the doorjamb. 

 

“I’d rather be like that than be like you,” she whispered. 

 

“I’m sorry, what?” Draco glared at her, anger beginning to radiate from him in palpable waves.

 

“You think  _ I’m _ pathetic?” She squared her shoulders, facing off with him three paces away. “Take a look at yourself, Draco. Sure, I might make a fool of myself,” - she lifted her chin and paused as if daring him to agree with her - “but at least I’m not terrified of getting hurt. I’d rather be seen as another crazy girl, than a playboy with commitment issues.

 

“You think you’ve  _ won _ ? Why? Because you treat women like shit and then boast about it to your friends?” She sneered. “Newsflash, Malfoy; you’re an asshole, and alone.” 

 

At his sharp inhale of breath, Hermione stopped her rant. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides, and her chest heaved in an erratic rhythm. Magic sparked at the ends of her hair, and she knew that she had to get out of there immediately before she blew his whole apartment to smithereens. 

 

“You know,” she said as she began to walk backwards through the doorway. “I feel sorry for you.” She licked her lips, tasting the salt from her tears on them. “You once told me that I should be like you - but I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Perhaps you should think about taking a leaf out of my book for a change.” 

 

With that, she tugged the door towards her and hurried away, leaving Draco blinking after her, his jaw slack. 

 

_ What the actual fuck? _


	5. If He's Turning Up On Your Doorstep...He Just Might Be Into You

Draco was not a stranger to scorned women. He had had his fair share of chits who had tried to change him, intent on turning him into boyfriend material. None of them had taken kindly to his reluctance for relationships, and more than once he had been subjected to listening to rants, screaming, crying, and begging. 

 

Not once, however, had he been told that he should be more like them, or that they pitied him. Perhaps that was why, weeks after the fact, he was still replaying Hermione’s words in his mind, instead of working on the staff roster for the following week. 

 

Flipping his phone open, the blond’s stomach clenched as one glance at the screen revealed that he had no new text messages, and no missed calls. Before he could wallow in the disappointment, he dialled a number he had long since learnt by heart.

 

In her apartment, Hermione was blow drying her hair in preparation for her date with Blaise this evening. Finally, after all the shit had gone down with Malfoy, the Italian wizard had called her, and they had arranged to meet for the first time...well, the first time since Hogwarts, anyway. 

 

She smiled at herself in the mirror as she scrunched her hair, taming her wild curls into something a guy might want to run his fingers through. Humming softly, with the warm air flowing around her head, she did not hear the phone ring. 

 

“Yeah, hi, Granger…” Draco stammered after Hermione’s voicemail message. “Um, it’s Draco.” He rose from his chair and began to pace his office. “I was just wondering…” He glanced up as Pansy stood in the open doorway. He held a finger up at her and averted his gaze. “Just wondering how...how you are?” He trailed off with a sigh. “Look, I wanted to talk to you...um, obviously…” He chuckled but it came out as more of a hacking cough. “Anyway, call me when you get this...if you want. It’s...it’s Draco, by the way. Draco Malfoy...um, okay…” 

 

He hung up and covered his face with his hands. He had never sounded so unsure of himself in his life. Was this what all those witches had experienced after he had rejected them? Had karma come to pay him a visit? 

 

Draco Malfoy didn’t stutter and stammer, tripping over words as if they were deep cracks in a poorly maintained sidewalk. There was no other explanation; meeting Hermione Granger and falling head over heels for her was the ultimate smack in the face from the Universe.

 

“Fucking hell.” Pansy shook her head. 

 

“I know,” he groaned. “I know.” 

 

“You’ve got it bad, man.” 

 

He glanced up at her, allowing his hands to drop to his lap. “Please,” he scoffed. 

 

“This is fantastic!” Pansy crowed, walking further into the room. “Let me guess; you still haven’t finished the rosters, have you? You can’t focus, checking your phone a thousand times in an hour.” She snapped her fingers in a mock display of having a sudden thought. “Wishing you could write songs.” Draco laughed, but the sound was weak and laced with a bitter undertone. “You’ve got it bad, Draco.”

 

“Shit.” He sighed.

 

“Welcome to my world, prick.” She offered him a grim smile.

 

“What do I do?” he begged. “I’m going fucking crazy over here.”

 

“I don’t know.” Pansy shrugged, moving back towards the door. “I’m assuming you’ve screwed up; how about starting with an apology?”

 

He exhaled forcefully but nodded. “Thanks, Pans.”

 

“Any time.” 

  
  


* * *

Hermione smiled softly as she unwrapped the scarf from around her neck, her cheek still tingling from where Blaise had kissed it. 

 

Sighing, she threw the garment on the back of the couch. Though she had had a wonderful time with the charming Italian wizard, Hermione couldn’t stop her mind as it wandered to thoughts of a blond-haired man with steel for irises. 

 

_ Damn you, Draco Malfoy, _ she thought to herself. 

 

Stubborn as she was, Hermione was not going to let the bastard prevent her from having a relationship with a decent man who actually cared about her. 

 

_ If he calls, _ she thought,  _ and asks for another date, I’m going to say yes.  _

 

With a determined nod, Hermione waved her hand towards the kettle, which hummed to life. She began to load her teapot with tea leaves and was just about to dig through the kitchen drawer for her tea cosy when a knock on the door interrupted her. 

 

She jumped at the sound before moving towards it, wondering if Blaise had reconsidered the idea of a kiss goodbye. 

 

“Forget something?” she asked coyly as she tugged the door inwards. Her face fell as she took in the wizard on her doorstep. “Malfoy? What are you - ?”

 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

 

“You’re…?” She trailed off, her eyes wide. “What do you want?”

 

“I just…” He bit his lip, his grey eyes swirling with an emotion Hermione couldn’t place. “I wanted to apologise.” 

 

“Is that it?” She crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing him with wary disdain. 

 

“Yes.” He turned to go and Hermione felt the urge to hex him rise in her chest. “No.” He suddenly turned back to her, his demeanor more certain now. 

 

“Oh?” She prompted.

 

“Look.” He exhaled forcefully and brought one hand up to run his fingers through his hair, which fell over his face in a deliciously dishevelled way. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” He spoke quickly, and Hermione’s breath caught on an inhale as his words sank in. “I...it’s a problem.” He laughed, a mirthless sound which reminded Hermione more of a dog’s bark than one of humour. “I’ve tried calling, but you don’t return them, so I started apparating to the alley behind your place and walking by, hoping to bump into you…” He trailed off at the shocked expression on her face. “I just - ”

 

“But you said,” she interjected, “that if a guy wants to be with a girl, he’ll make it happen.”

 

“That’s true,” he agreed.

 

“And yet,” - she pointed an accusatory finger at his chest - “when I asked you whether you liked me, you said - ”

 

“I know.” He held up his hands in a sign of surrender. “I know what I said, Granger, but here’s the thing.” He swallowed thickly and took a step forward, so Hermione was forced to look up to maintain eye contact with him. “You were right.”

 

“I’m sorry?” She whispered, a small smile tugging at her lips despite her better judgment. “Could you repeat that?”

 

He growled low in his chest but allowed her smart remark to slide. “I was hurt once, and I decided then that I would never let it happen again. I was so busy making sure that I maintained a safe distance between me and all these witches, that I didn’t realise...” He paused for half a second. “When I actually fell for one.”

 

Hermione’s shook her head as she felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes. “I just went out with Blaise.” She blurted out, indicating the empty hallway with a half-hearted gesture. “And he might be exactly what I’ve been looking for. There’s no bullshit with him; he admits he likes me, calls when he says he’s going to, and - ”

 

“I could do that.” Draco moved forward again until their chests were touching, his tone desperate.

 

“But you didn't!” Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as she lost the war against her tears, droplets tracking salty rivulets down her cheeks. “And you said I was the rule, Draco, remember? I’m the rule, not the exception, and I should stop looking for signs that a guy likes me, because unless they specifically state that - ”

 

She was cut off by Draco placing his hands on her hips and tugging her towards him, his lips molding to hers seamlessly. A small whimper escaped her as he kissed her, and Hermione forgot where she was and what they were talking about, fisting her hands into the front of his shirt. 

 

He pulled back after a couple of seconds and Hermione clung to him for fear of losing her balance. Smiling down at her, Draco massaged her hips, waiting for her brain to catch up. 

 

“I’m...I’m the exception?” she whispered, glancing up at him from underneath her eyelashes. 

 

His tongue darted over his lips and he brought his hands up to cup her face tenderly. Using the pad of his thumb, Draco wiped the remnants of her tears from her cheeks, staring deeply into her eyes. 

 

“You are  _ my _ exception,” he whispered back.

 

For a moment they simply looked at each other, mirroring smiles creeping across their faces, before Draco once again dipped his head and claimed her lips with his. 

 

_ Merlin,  _ Hermione thought as he gently steered her backwards into her apartment and shut the door with a swift kick of his toe.  _ This is not how I pictured tonight would go… _

 

And though it definitely hadn’t ended with her pressed beneath Draco Malfoy on her couch in her mind, Hermione couldn’t help but smirk against the blond’s lips as she thanked her past self for always trusting her gut when it came to romantic endeavours.


End file.
